I Give Myself a Failing Grade
by What a Rubber Chicken
Summary: (A little character study on Miss Bustier from Origins to Zombizou. Cross-posted to Tumblr and Ao3) All she really wanted was to be a good teacher. But in a city full of corruption and temptations, nothing is ever easy.


**I Give Myself a Failing Grade**

Miss Bustier had never been one for confrontation. It was her one great failing in life. Especially as a schoolteacher! People expected her to be able to make the children behave. Hell, _she_ expected to be able to make her children behave.

So, when Mr. Damocles pulled her into his office before the first day of school and told her to send all the troublemakers to him immediately, for any and all punishments, all she felt was relief.

Of course, it was quickly replaced by a chill.

"But do NOT, under any circumstances, punish Miss Chloé Bourgeois," he added, shaking his finger at her to emphasize the point.

Miss Bustier was lost. She was confused. And slightly offended.

"But, Mr. Damocles, isn't it my job—"

"NO!" Mr. Damocles insisted.

"But, surely—"

"NO!"

"But what if she—"

"NO!"

Miss Bustier snapped her mouth shut, her anger growing.

Mr. Damocles took a deep breath and settled his hands on his desk. "I know it isn't fair," he said slowly. "I know it isn't right, and it certainly isn't how we want things to be done around here. But you must understand my position! Mayor Bourgeois is deeply invested in the well-being of his daughter—"

"Then he should want her to get a proper education!" she exclaimed, disbelief surging through her veins.

Mr. Damocles sighed and looked around, as though afraid he might be overheard in his own office.

"Listen to me, Miss Bustier," he said quietly. "As someone who has taught Miss Bourgeois before; she is not going to learn anything here at our school."

"That's not a good attitude to have!"

"But it's the truth," he insisted, still keeping his voice low. "Her father is paying us an exorbitant amount of money to simply make the appearance of teaching her, and he's already bought out most of the school board. She needs to graduate with top grades just so we can keep this school open. It doesn't matter if she's earned them. I'm sure you've heard of her; that girl is going to coast through life on her father's money and her mother's fame, not from any actual accomplishments of her own."

Suddenly, Miss Bustier felt a twinge of pity for the girl. "Still," she said weakly. "Shouldn't we at least _try_?"

"_Chloé_ doesn't want to try," Mr. Damocles said, shaking his head. "I don't even know why she wants to be here; probably just to lord her status over the other students. She could certainly afford tutors, but I'm willing to bet none of them were willing to pass her to her heart's content. There's even rumors that she convinced Gabriel Agreste's son to enroll here; and if that happens our school will have more than enough funds to stay open…. Just—just play along. Give her the handouts, tell her what a good job she did on her projects, and try to keep her happy."

Caline was silent for a moment. "I can't believe I'm hearing this," she finally said. "I thought this school was the best of the best. You have brilliant, genius-level minds, children of politicians and ambassadors, even child TV stars! And yet, you're going to bend over backwards for one spoiled brat?!"

Mr. Damocles was silent. Miss Bustier shook her head.

"I can't do it," she said. "Give her to someone else. I won't be a part of this… this hypocrisy!"

"I can't," Mr. Damocles said sadly. "The other teachers have all already refused. Mrs. Mendeliev nearly got us all fired last year when she gave the girl detention for throwing another girl's notes on the floor."

"I'm just supposed to let her bully other students?!" Miss Bustier cried, aghast.

"No, no, of course not. Just chastise her in a way that makes it look like you're including the whole class."

Miss Bustier stared at him in disgust and walked right out of the office.

* * *

Later, she'd met Miss Bourgeois.

There was only one word for the girl.

_**Awful.**_

She nearly considered handing in her resignation right then. But the reality of her situation had quickly caught up with her.

She really needed this job.

She needed to pay rent. She needed to eat.

And she very much doubted anyone would hire the teacher who got on the bad side of Mayor André Bourgeois. He was notorious for blacklisting people who angered him in any way. And his love for his daughter was just as widely known.

And she _could_ do it, Miss Bustier reasoned. She could make sure Chloé Bourgeois stayed happy. Hell, in her own high school class, she'd been voted "Least Likely to Start a Fight." Even as her stomach churned, her mind was playing with ways to turn bad situations into good ones. Or, at least make them _sound_ good to one Daddy's Little Princess.

The other students in the class still needed her, she reasoned. If she left and the school was dismantled, where would all of them go?

All she had to do was concentrate on teaching _them_, and keeping Miss Bourgeois happy. She didn't actually have to teach her….

This could work. She could do this.

And really, would it be so bad to be on the good side of the mayor?

* * *

Then, on that very first day. She'd _failed_.

Her very first punishment.

And suddenly, her student had turned into a raging monster.

She'd done that.

She'd given him that last push.

Instead of having Ivan talk it out with his classmate, instead of allowing them to shake hands and put it all behind them, she'd taken the easy way out. She'd had taken Mr. Damocles up on his offer to take care of all the misbehavers.

And she'd had to watch in horror as her students were attacked by a monster.

She didn't blame Ivan. His file had said he was still learning to control his anger. But at least he was trying.

She hadn't even _tried_. She hadn't even _attempted_ to hear his side of the story.

The result? A foothold for Hawkmoth to sink his hooks into an innocent child.

The appearance of Ladybug and Chat Noir was all that kept her from crying her eyes out all night long. This was her punishment for giving up and selling out, she just knew it was! She'd failed the class. She'd failed her own dreams and aspirations! But no… she had to stay strong. She still had a classroom full of terrified students. It was her job to take care of them.

And for next few months, she'd watched in despair as, one by one, each of them surrendered to the supervillain. Soon, her nights were spent frantically reading yoga and meditation books—ways to clear your mind and take control of your emotions. She started new programs in class—forcing all of them to do it was the only way to make sure Chloé participated. But every time she had to look away from Chloé's bullying (yes, she'd seen the bubblegum incident, but Marinette had handled it with such grace and poise! That girl was going places!) or scold someone for blaming all of the supernatural problems on Chloé (even though about half the akumas _were_ actually her fault, or at least related to something she'd done, those were just facts), she felt her heart shrivel up and die just a little bit more.

_Just once, _she prayed. _Just once, let her have a heart. Let her see the pain she's causing. Make her care!_

She supposed that was her own undoing as Zombizou.

She'd just really wanted to make that brat care for once.

But she'd failed.

She'd wanted to take Marinette and hug her; let her know how her own heart had been crushed by the callous defacing of such painstaking craftsmanship. The little bag had been lovely. So thoughtful and sweet, and perfectly Marinette.

It wasn't fair for Chloé to take that away from her. But–she tried to spin it in a good light–it didn't take away from the love Marinette had put into it already. If anything, it meant more. Chloé knew how good Marinette's talent was. She saw her as a threat.

Miss Bustier had meant it, when she said she'd think of them both. But she certainly wouldn't be seeing them in the same light. She'd be seeing the careful, hard work and dedication of Marinette, whose consideration shone through everything; even if it was defaced. And she'd see the ugly scrawling of Chloé, who still couldn't create anything on her own. She could only destroy others.

She'd intended to hold them both close, savoring one and silently mocking the other. But she'd even failed in conveying her own thoughts to her prize pupil!

_We can have such pure intentions, Marinette, _she'd wanted to say in the hallway. _And they'll still get sullied by others no matter how hard we fight._

It was scarily similar to her own career as a teacher.

She started off wanting to help others. To bring just a little more light and beauty into the world by helping the brightest and cleverest of students to bloom. Now, some days, she wondered if she wasn't doing more harm than good, letting Chloé have her way all the time. And _Hawkmoth_… Hawkmoth had sensed that, and had offered her the one power she'd desired above all else. The power to make Chloé _care_.

She'd utterly failed all of her own morals that day.

She still felt awful for the trauma Paris had had to endure because of Zombizou.

Ladybug had saved her; had healed all of Paris once again. But it hadn't helped much against the doubts in Caline's own heart. She wasn't some miracle teacher, much as she wanted to be. Most of her students had already been akumatized; some more than once!

She would never be a hero. She could only muddle along in this infested swamp of a school, trying desperately to fish out a few sparkling gems.

But _Marinette_. Marinette had called her the "best teacher ever." Marinette still believed in her, still tried to help her, both in and out of the classroom. She was beautiful. She was bright. She continued to be a leader; to believe in right and wrong, and fight for it.

And if someone like that could believe in _her_… well, maybe this teacher wasn't a completely lost cause.

And really, you can only fail if you quit.

Caline Bustier held her head up high (remembering all too well how most of her students had slouched into class after their own transformations, unwilling to look anyone in the eye) and kept her voice steady and cheerful.

"Morning, everyone!"

"Morning, Miss Bustier!" they chorused back, just the same as ever.

She smiled. "Glad to see you all. Now…."

And with that, she started the class. After all, they all had so much to learn. Herself most of all.


End file.
